


getting me down

by Zekkass



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Inflation, Other, PWP, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: In an AU of the G1 continuity, the Quintessons have won. Ultra Magnus and Knock Out are two refugees from Cybertron, surviving where they can amongst aliens. Knock Out tends to flirt, Ultra Magnus takes things seriously, Minimus Ambus is along for the ride.





	getting me down

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, zeenovos! Sorry it's like half a year late orz
> 
> You asked for this pairing and I finally, finally deliver. Thank you for waiting so patiently!

Knock Out flicks the cap off of his jar of polish, giving Ultra Magnus another look.

"I don't believe you when you say they're only inspections," he says as he picks out a brush. "Inspections don't result in dents, scuffs, and whatever those _marks_ were."

"Oil," Ultra Magnus says helpfully.

"And how did you let oil spoil your frame?"

"I interrupted a bar fight," Ultra Magnus says with utmost gravitas.

"Meaning you were included in it," Knock Out concludes with a sigh, and he gets to work, applying the polish in even spreads. Ordinarily he could take more pleasure in working on Ultra Magnus' frame. It's huge, usually well-maintained, and attached to a mech he's grown...fond of.

Reliant on. It isn't easy surviving on the fringes of what used to be Cybertronian space. It isn't _easy_ surviving when they're no longer the conquerors in alien space, but refugees, bartering their services in exchange for needed supplies.

"I restored the peace," Ultra Magnus says, stiff. But he lifts his armor when Knock Out nudges it with the brush.

"As long as the locals don't run us out of here," Knock Out mutters. "Did you find any work?"

It's unfair of him.

"They don't need my services," Ultra Magnus says. "But I did find a trader who will take us on as guards. It was... impressed by my methods."

Knock Out almost laughs, curling his fingers around one of Ultra Magnus' arms before he lets go, trailing his clawtips along plating as he walks around Ultra's massive frame.

"You're very impressive," he says, hopping up to stand on Ultra Magnus' thigh so he can reach his upper arms.

Normally, when Knock Out makes remarks like this, Ultra Magnus lets them pass without comment.

"There is something I need to show you before you continue courting me," Ultra Magnus says, drastically misinterpreting Knock Out's comment.

It's sheer habit, to compliment mechs he finds attractive. It doesn't necessarily imply intent to court, but - before Knock Out can say anything or truly begin to examine his own intentions, Ultra Magnus' chest begins to open up.

He's forced back as plating swings open on previously hidden hinges, and inside - where there _should_ be internals and spark housing - is a rather small mech.

A small mech in green and white with an interesting choice of facial decoration and plating that's appallingly dull, clearly in need of maintenance - 

"Forgive me," says the small mech. A fine choice of voice, even without the interesting frequencies Ultra Magnus' frame permits. Different. "We weren't sure when we would introduce me."

We?

The small mech steps out of Ultra Magnus, jumping to the floor before turning, and Ultra Magnus simply - closes up, optics bright.

 _Two_ mechs.

Knock Out quickly runs an internal scan, to be sure he's not recharging, or hallucinating.

"Does he have a spark?" He asks, once that's finished, pointing to Ultra Magnus. It's a question he can ask because he's a medic, and if the small mech was sitting where the spark container normally was - 

"A small one," Ultra Magnus says. "I wasn't created with one."

"It's developed over time," says the small mech. "Ultra Magnus was originally a set of armor. Now he is himself."

It's not without precedent - the most famous case is Wheeljack's work with the Dinobots - but - a set of armor?

"Who are you?"

The small mech fingers its facial decoration in a nervous gesture, then offers up: "I am Minimus Ambus." As if it means anything, to anyone.

A moment as Knock Out searches his memory banks. He keeps a close optic on the two of them as the search runs - he supposes he shouldn't feel sore about it, given the nature of this secret, but - really. Two mechs. One hidden within the other. And Ultra Magnus has acted as his guard! He's _repaired_ the mech and polished him! He's _trusted_ \- 

Ambus, House of. An ancient dynasty from Cybertron, marked for being active when it came to preserving the existence of Predacons, often lobbying for equal rights between frametypes - idealistic sorts. Except for how they were part of the Towers and that nest of rich, influential mechs who held themselves above and apart from society.

All irrelevant now, except for what it meant for Minimus Ambus' beliefs and behaviors. And Ultra Magnus'.

"Do I need to introduce myself?" Knock Out asks, deciding to be charmed instead of upset. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

A noble should appreciate manners.

"I share sensory networks with Ultra Magnus," Minimus says, smiling slightly.

"Even now?"

"To a small extent thanks to our proximity," Minimus Ambus says, after a pause.

 _"Well,"_ Knock Out says, finally getting a handle on what he wants to _do_ with these two. He steps up to Minimus, bending slightly so they're on an even level. "Forget courting. I'd like to have some fun with you. Apply a little polish, make sure your equipment's all in working order..."

He traces a clawtip along Minimus' chin, smirking.

"It's improper," Ultra Magnus says with a start.

"What is?" Knock Out glances at him, touching his clawtip to Minimus' lips. "I'm hardly offering you my spark."

"We accept," Minimus says, reaching up to close his fingers around Knock Out's wrist. He flicks his glossae out, tapping Knock Out's clawtips. "Do you consent to riding Ultra Magnus' spike while I ride yours?"

Knock Out's vocalizer hitches, before he nods. "I should be able to take his spike."

"All of it?"

"Well," Knock Out says, looking over at Ultra Magnus now, enjoying the way his vents have exposed themselves. "We'll just have to test that, won't we?"

"Indeed," Minimus murmurs, and together they converge on Ultra Magnus; he is on his knees, already perfectly positioned to offer his spike.

His panels open with ready clicks, his spike pressurizing and extending to its full length and girth. Knock Out touches a clawtip to it, marveling that it more than fulfills the promise of Ultra Magnus' sheer size.

"Yes," Knock Out says, opening his valve and climbing up to perch over that spike. "You'll do."

He glances over his shoulder at Ultra Magnus' face, enjoys Ultra's look of helpless shock, and slowly brings himself down. His systems are already producing lubricant, more than enough to make Ultra's spike slip against his valve's lips - he has to reach down, carefully gripping its tip with his clawtips and guiding it inside of him.

He's _big._

Knock Out gasps as he adjusts, hips twitching as he pushes down, making his valve take the stretch, forcing his systems to understand the urgency - he wants to take all of it. Oh, but he wants to slam himself down on all of Ultra Magnus's spike and scream pleasure until his vocalizer shuts off.

If he doesn't take his time, he won't be able to do it again later without extensive repairs.

His valve unfolds, other systems retracting so he can have the room to take Ultra Magnus. His gestation chamber gate opens so he can have that room too - safety protocols in place.

Slowly, inch by inch, he pushes all the way down.

Ultra Magnus hasn't stopped spitting static since he started, with moans erupting from his vocalizer. Minimus - Minimus watches.

He grins at him as he finally settles all the way down, the stretch immense, his plating bulging outwards just to cope with the size of the spike inside of him. He can't _wait_ until the overloads start, when he'll be so full he'll have trouble moving.

But Knock Out's not finished.

"Minimus," he says, vocalizer husky with pleasure. "You're going to ride my spike. Right now."

He lets it out, looking down so he can admire the sleek red of his spike against the bulge of his torso, the blue of Ultra Magnus below, and lubricants everywhere.

"I," Minimus Ambus says.

"Right now," Knock Out repeats, holding out his hand. "Come here. I'll help you on."

"Yes," is Minimus' only option. He takes Knock Out's hand and lets himself be pulled into position. Knock Out's gentle, quivering occasionally as charge ripples through his circuits.

"I might overload," he warns, and shudders all over as Minimus' valve touches his spike. It's smaller than his spike, he'll have to adjust the way Knock Out did to Ultra Magnus, and they'll all have to be careful, but oh - 

Knock Out digs his claws into Minimus' shoulders as he pushes down, engine straining with the charge buzzing through him. He's so _close_ \- 

Ultra Magnus moves, closing a hand over Minimus' shoulders, then another on his hips, and he begins to drag Minimus up and down, as if he were a toy - 

Knock Out shrieks as he overloads hard, everything going white as charge takes over, knocking out systems and leaving him on the fritz, the wonderful, wonderful fritz - 

Distantly he hears a shout, another shout - 

He comes to - chronometer still recovering - still on Ultra Magnus' spike, still in Minimus Ambus, holding very still.

"I'd like to do this again," Minimus Ambus says, with too-bright optics. "Courting or no courting."

He must have some kind of mod for his vocalizer, his voice is so clear. His plating still flashes with charge, and he's trembling.

"Y-es," Knock Out answers, because what choice does he have? Ultra Magnus' engines are a comforting rumble behind him, his transfluid is warm, his spike is perfect - and he's so, so comfortable.

Minimus Ambus leans forward - oh, that angle feels good on Knock Out's spike - and kisses him, gently.

"I'm glad," he whispers.


End file.
